


Running Through A Cloud Of Steam

by allwaswell16



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bodyswap, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Louis, Jealousy, Kissing, London, M/M, Pining, Soulmates, a tiny bit of crying, but like it's still pretty fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 21:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13960368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwaswell16/pseuds/allwaswell16
Summary: As Harry’s long anticipated twenty-first birthday approaches, he anxiously awaits the moment when he finally meets his soulmate. He’s not even sure he believes in soulmates, but at the very least, he hopes to prove to his best friend that nothing can come between their friendship--not even a soulmate.





	Running Through A Cloud Of Steam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dio8199](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dio8199/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday to [waitingforsomeghostie](http://waitingforsomeghostie.tumblr.com/)! Maybe someday I'll write some Drarry again for you, but in the meantime please accept this bit of pining soulmate fluff instead. <3
> 
> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge using the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names for our prompts. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works). You can find more information on the challenge here and to reblog the masterpost on tumblr, you can [click here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> Prompt #37: The embarrassment when you’re caught picking your nose.

 

/// Harry ///

 

Harry stares up at the ceiling of his flat. The alarm on his phone will buzz soon, and he’ll be forced to get out of bed and live through this day.

He should be excited. In less than twenty-four hours he’ll wake up in the body of his soulmate and spend an entire day as this person. All the years of uncertainty will come to an end. He’ll never have to wonder if his boyfriend is the “one” or if the entire relationship is pointless.

He’s spent the last few years waking up just like today, wondering if he’ll find himself in a different body. After all, he didn’t know for certain that he’s older than his soulmate. It appears he is not as he’s just woken up in his own body. So clue number one: he’s older than his soulmate. His heart flutters a bit, but instead of the excitement he hoped for, he feels something like dread sit in the pit of his stomach.

A thousand thoughts swirl through his mind, the same ones that have resounded in his brain for years. Who will it be? What will he look like? What is he like? Does he like kids? Does he have a big family? What if he doesn’t like cats? Does he already know him or is it a stranger? What if he wakes up tomorrow and he’s halfway across the world? What a hassle. He really hopes his soulmate is at least British.

And then the biggest and worst one: does he even really believe in soulmates? His mum had woken up on her twenty-first birthday just as herself. No one really knows if she just doesn’t have a soulmate or if hers had died before turning twenty-one. But what Harry does know is that his mum is married to the love of her life and is very happy. Her husband had been her choice, and deep in the recesses of his heart Harry wishes for that same kind of happiness, the kind that someone chooses for themself.

His alarm starts buzzing, and Harry sighs and hits snooze. He wants more than anything to go crawl in bed with Louis right now. He’s just across the hall, so he could potentially do just that. But Louis has been acting weird for weeks. He seems nearly as nervous as Harry about this whole soulmate thing.

He drags himself into the shower and soaps up his body, one that won’t even be his tomorrow. He tries not to let that thought get to him. He stands at the counter in the kitchen and chokes down a few bites of cereal before Louis appears, rumpled and sleepy. His heart flips over in his chest. This has always been his favourite version of Louis, the one only he sees.

“Hey, H,” Louis mumbles as he opens the fridge and takes the milk out.

“Hey.”

Louis plops the milk on the counter and then reaches for the cereal in the cupboard. He seems to be deliberately not touching Harry, which is hard to do in this tiny kitchen. There’s a thread of awkwardness that simply has never existed between them before the last few weeks. Harry sighs. He hopes this weirdness between them will go away once he’s got a soulmate. It really sucks to not be able to talk to your best friend about what’s bothering you most.

In fact, his heart seems to seize up a bit that he feels so detached from Louis right now. Maybe none of this would even be bothering him if he just knew he had Louis. Louis must notice him staring because he suddenly looks up at him, eyes blue and wary. The air feels heavy and hard for Harry to pull in and out of his lungs. Every time Louis comes near him these days, his body seems to react oddly as though their separation has been having a physical effect on him.

He’s clearly losing it. He offers Louis a wan smile and rinses out his cereal bowl before walking back towards his bedroom to grab his laptop for his morning lecture.

“So--”

Harry turns back to look at Louis.

“Ehm--still on for tonight?”

“What?”

“At Molly’s? For your birthday?”

Right. All their friends are meeting at the pub for his birthday. “Oh. Yeah. I’ll just--see you then.”

Louis drops his eyes to the counter and nods his head. Harry frowns and gathers up his bag and laptop and heads out for the day. His last day as himself.

///

A bitter late January wind whips around Harry’s neck as he pulls open the doors to Molly’s. He regrets leaving his scarf at home today. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of the flat and away from his own thoughts and Louis’ cautious looks. He weaves his way through the crowded pub until he reaches the usual back table filled with familiar faces.

A roar erupts as everyone spots him, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as pints are pushed in front of him, and Niall calls out to Molly for a round of shots. An hour into the night and he’s feeling a bit buzzed from all the alcohol as he eats crisps from the random plates now scattered across the table.

He smiles wistfully at Liam dancing with his girlfriend, looking so lovely and happy, but when his gaze returns to the table, he catches Louis watching him out of the corner of his eye. Louis offers him an odd, almost pained smile that Harry doesn’t have the faintest idea how to return. He lifts his pint in acknowledgement though.

It’s not right that he’s sitting across the table right now. Everything feels wrong and tilted off its axis. Louis shouldn’t be sitting away from him, tucked protectively under Zayn’s arm as though that’s where he belongs. God, he can’t wait to get this all over with. Maybe when it’s all over, he and Louis can go back to being HarryandLouis.

“Whatcha doin’, H? Need another?” Niall asks as he plops down next to him.

“Nah. Still working on this one, Ni.”

Niall turns a surprisingly serious look on him. “So what’s going on with you and Lou, anyway?”

“What? Nothing. What do you--”

“Well, for starters you’re right here, and he’s over there.” Niall raises one eyebrow. “Ain’t natural.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, he’s been a little--weird with me lately.”

Niall nods knowingly. “Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Probably bloody worried he’s gonna wake up tomorrow and find Marcus in your bed.”

Harry chokes on his beer. “What? Hell no! If Marcus is my soulmate, I’ll kick him out of my bed myself.”

Niall claps him on the back. “Good, good. Just what I want to hear. But ya know, maybe that’s what Lou wants to hear, too.”

“He can’t possibly think I’d--” Harry looks across into Louis’ darkened eyes and searches them for a moment. Louis looks away and says something to Zayn. Maybe Louis really does think he’d ditch their friendship for his soulmate even if it was fucking Marcus. “Marcus was a jealous twat. I wouldn’t give up Louis for anyone, not even my soulmate and definitely not for a dickhead like Marcus.”

“Maybe you should tell him that, mate.”

“Why doesn’t he already know that though?” Harry asks. “Shouldn’t he know I wouldn’t do that?”

Niall shrugs, but everything has built up in his head and to be honest he’s irked that he has to worry about Louis on top of all this other soulmate bullshit he’s got to deal with right now.

“You know, I don’t even know if I believe in soulmates, Niall,” Harry admits quietly. “What if tomorrow I meet him and he’s--I don’t know--”

“A girl?”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry barks. “No! Like what if he’s quiet and shy. I don’t know how to talk to people like that. Makes me nervous. What if he hates the sound of children laughing? What if he’s allergic to cats?”

Harry can hear the panic seep into his voice. “Niall, what if he doesn’t want me?”

Niall clucks in sympathy. “Aw, mate. It’d be his loss then. And I don’t have one doubt you’ll find the person you’re meant to be with either way.”

“Thanks, Ni.”

“Anytime. Although I’m sure Louis could have said it better. This is sort of the heart-to-heart shit I imagine you two get up to in the middle of the night.”

Harry smiles. It is indeed the kind of talk he and Louis have had cuddled in bed in the middle of the night. Well, it was anyway. Until his birthday grew closer, and everything seems to just fall to shit.

“To be honest, I ain’t looking forward to this myself. Kind of wish I’d be getting over with it now, too,” Niall admits.

Harry smiles at Niall imagining the sunny person who is destined to be Niall’s soulmate. “Well, you’ve got a few more months before you’ll know for sure. But what I do know is that whoever it is is lucky as hell that it’s you.”

“Aw, ya sap,” Niall says cuffing him around the neck. “Back at ya, mate. Wonder who Lou’s is gonna be. Can’t really picture someone at the moment. Been a while since he’s even been looking for someone.”

Harry’s eyes dart back to Louis’, a common occurrence tonight. It _has_ been a long time since Louis has been with anyone for more than a night. Maybe a year? Maybe more? A stab of guilt hits him that he’s been so preoccupied with himself and turning twenty-one that he’s really not given a lot of thought to what will happen when Louis turns twenty-one. It’s just felt like there’s still quite a lot of time as Louis won’t turn twenty-one until the end of the year. But really, it could happen at any time. Any morning Harry could wake up and find a stranger in Louis’ bed. A wave of emotion washes over him so powerful that if he weren’t sitting he would have fallen to his knees.

He stumbles to his feet. “I gotta--”

He rushes to the loo and barricades himself in a stall. Fuck. What the fuck was that? He tries to calm his racing heart and tells himself it’s just the stress and the alcohol, but it just felt like something so much more than that. He’s really losing it.

///

Harry opens his eyes slowly. His eyelids feel heavy with sleep or drink or something that’s making them feel strangely weighted. His tongue is parched, and his head pounds. He feels like hell. He stares up at the familiar sight of his flat’s ceiling, and that’s when it hits him.

He’s still in his flat.

His stomach roils with whatever it is he drank last night combined with crushing anxiety. Does this mean he doesn’t have a soulmate? Or his soulmate is dead? He finally stares at the room long enough to realise he’s in Louis’ room and not his own. He glances at the bed briefly for a sign of Louis having slept there with him, but if he did, he’s not here now. He sits up in bed and moves to swing his legs over the side, but his legs seem to have gotten a lot shorter. His heart skips a beat as he whips off the blankets and stares down at his now shorter and curvier legs with some very familiar tattoos inked into his skin.

He kicks the duvet away and tumbles out of bed and onto the floor in his haste to get out of the bed and to the nearest mirror. Not that he even needs to look, but his brain is screaming one long high pitched tone of panic. He needs to see it.

He stumbles out of the room and into the bathroom, and even though he knows what face will be looking back in the reflection of the small mirror over the sink, he somehow still isn’t prepared to see Louis’ shocked blue eyes looking back. He opens his mouth--Louis’ mouth--as though to scream, but nothing comes out. Instead, whatever strand of composure he’d been relying on finally snaps, and he sinks to the floor in a heap.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries to get ahold of himself enough to figure out what to do now. Presumably, his body is sleeping in his room right now. He has no idea what time it is, but he assumes if Louis had woken up in his body, he would have at the very least come to find him.

Oh god. What is he going to do? What is Louis going to think about all this? They’ve talked ad nauseum in the past about how Harry feels about soulmates, but not once has Louis ever shared his own feelings. Honestly, Harry’s feeling a bit shit about that at the moment. He doesn’t even know what his best friend thinks about soulmates.

He carefully holds on to the base of the sink and uses it to shakily stand up again. The brief flash of Louis’ face in the reflection again nearly has him sinking to the floor once more, but he manages to look away and tip toe back to his room where he feverishly searches the room for his phone.

He feels like an idiot when he realises the only phone in the room is Louis’ phone. Okay, it’s only ten o’clock in the morning. No wonder he feels so rubbish. He’s fairly certain he and Louis didn’t make it back into their flat until half three. He knows he was born at eight twenty-seven in the morning, so he’s been in Louis’ body for a few hours it seems.

He tries to take some calm breaths before he quickly scrolls Louis’ contacts and presses Niall’s name.

The line rings quite a few time, ratcheting up his panic, but in the end he’s greeted finally with a loud, grumbling snort that could maybe pass as a greeting of some sort. In any case, someone--presumably Niall--has answered the phone.

“Niall?”

“Hurrupmfdfsa. Lou,” Niall moans. “What the fuck, mate? What time is it?”

“Ummmmm--this isn’t--I mean--” Harry fumbles. “This isn’t Louis.”

“Fuckin’ riddles at arse o’clock in the morning. What the fuck? Who is this then? And why do ya have Lou’s phone and sound like Louis?”

“It’s Harry.”

“Pssshhhhhh, no it’s--wait--HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHA!” Niall’s laughter trails off in a fit of coughing.

“Thanks so much for this unconditional support.”

“Wow. Fuckin’ weird to hear Louis speak this slowly.”

“Niall!”

“Right, right. It’s Harry. Probably having an existential crisis.” Niall seems to be reminding himself. “I mean, not to be insensitive to your crisis, but are you telling me you had no idea?”

“What are you talking about? Of course not! Did you?”

“Who didn’t, honestly?” Niall scoffs.

“What?”

“A bit oblivious, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe.” Harry sits with a thump on Louis’ bed. “So--people thought--Louis was my soulmate? Did--Louis think--”

“Dunno, mate. Never really talked about it with him. But he’s been walking around like a sad arse for weeks.”

“Mmmm.” That could mean any number of things though.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck, mate.”

Harry’s skin--well, Louis’ skin--prickles with anticipation. “Thanks, Ni.”

“Go get him.”

The phone clicks off, and Harry is left sitting in his best friend’s body--his soulmate’s body--wondering what the fuck to do now.

Go get him, Niall had said. Was it that simple? Go crawl into his own bed and snuggle up to--himself? He has a rubbish feeling that this isn’t going to be that simple. He stares down at the hands sat in his lap. They’re much smaller than his real ones. He studies the veins and tattoos that he knows nearly as well as his own.

He takes a deep breath and gathers his courage. He stands on shaky legs and walks slowly out of Louis’ bedroom and down the hall. He opens the door to his own bedroom a crack and looks in on the sleeping figure in his bed.

The figure stirs.

Harry watches himself wake up and blink oddly in the February sunlight pouring through the window before his green eyes focus in on him--the man standing in his doorway.

 

/// Louis ///

 

A slight rustling noise and the sound of footsteps pokes through the cobwebs of Louis’ fuzzy mind. His limbs feel absurdly heavy and wrong. How much did he drink last night anyway? Probably a lot. Probably enough to try and forget that the love of his life is waking up today in someone else’s body.

His heart jolts in a now familiar panic, and his stomach drops as though he’s falling. His eyes blink away the sleep. Sun pours in through the windows from the wrong side of his bed, which is--strange.

Someone is standing in the doorway. Oh god. It’s probably _him--_ the other man--Harry’s soulmate. His vision blurs, and he blinks a few times. His eyes feel odd as though he’s looking through some type of lens. He’s about to look upon the face of the man who will take Harry away from him forever.

He stares into the blue of his own eyes, watching him cautiously.

“Hi, Lou.” He hears his own voice drawl the words out slowly.

His brain short circuits as he tries to sit up and realises his arms seem to have grown a few inches and don’t work quite like they belong to him. All he can hear is a rush of blood through his ears. If he weren’t half laying across Harry’s bed, he couldn’t have stood on his own.

“Hi.” The voice that comes from his lips shocks him. It’s obviously deeper and hoarser than his own. It’s also quite obviously Harry’s voice.

He watches his face crinkle into a fond smile. So that must be what he looks like when he looks at Harry. Christ. It’s a very obvious look. Except that it isn’t actually him. Right. It’s actually Harry standing there grinning at him with his eyes crinkled nearly shut. It’s Harry standing there in his body on his twenty-first birthday.

A riot of violent emotion rushes through Louis’ veins, and tears flood his eyes. The look on Harry’s--or does it count as Louis’--face turns automatically alarmed, and he rushes forward nearly knocking Louis backwards onto the bed.

“Lou? What is it?” Harry asks, clutching his shoulders tightly for a moment and then suddenly releasing them. “Oh--I see--I’m sorry--I--”

All these weeks of worry. Months really. Years if anyone wants to get technical. He’s been preparing himself for nearly as long as he’s known Harry for the moment when the person he loves most in the world is taken away from him because in no universe did he ever assume that he’d be lucky enough to be Harry’s soulmate. And yet, here he is, in Harry’s bed--in Harry’s body.

He finally notices that Harry has backed up nearly to the door again, a look he can’t discern on his face, which is unnerving considering it’s actually his face. It finally dawns on him what it perhaps looks like, that the moment Louis found out they were soulmates he started crying. “Wait. Harry, it’s not--I didn’t--”

He falls arse over tit out of bed and onto a heap on the floor. Bloody long legs he isn’t used to tripping him up. By the time he reaches the door, he hears his own bedroom door slam shut and the click of a lock. Fuck.

He rests his head against the door frame and notices he’s not wearing a stitch. Harry _does_ always sleep naked. He can feel his cheeks heat a bit. He’s seen Harry naked plenty of times. The boy definitely likes to be naked, but he’s always averted his eyes to the sight, too cognizant of how much he’d like to look his fill. And while now seems like the perfect chance to explore the body he’s long lusted after, his best friend is currently barricaded in his room and clearly upset.

He quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and frantically pulls on a pair of pants before clumsily stomping down the hall towards his own room. Fucking hell, how does Harry even walk around like this?

He tries the door knob even though he knows he heard it lock. “Harry? Open the door.”

“No,” says Harry’s muffled voice.

“You better not be wiping your bogeys on my pillow.”

He hears a strangled laugh. That’s a good sign.

“Harry?”

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

There’s a long pause and then the sound of footsteps, but the door doesn’t swing open.

“H?” Louis pleads quietly against the flimsy wood separating them. “Please, Harry. We should--talk.”

He feels a small thump against the door, and he wonders if it’s Harry’s head or hand that he hears. He hears the lock click open, but it’s not enough time to keep himself upright when the door swings open. He topples to the floor yet again.

“I’m not used to your legs,” he says as he looks up at Harry from the floor.

Harry snorts and wipes his nose with the sleeve of Louis’ favourite t-shirt.

“Knew you were getting bogeys everywhere.”

Harry’s nose turns a bit pink in embarrassment as he looks around the room. “There’s no Kleenex in here.”

“In the drawer,” he says, gesturing to the small nightstand next to the bed. “Wait! Don’t--”

He’s too late though. Harry pulls open the drawer to find the box of tissues along with various other items Louis sometimes enjoys whilst needing a tissue when he’s done enjoying them.

“How did I not know you kept all this in here?” Harry asks curiously as he holds up a large bottle of lube and a purple dildo.

“Harry!” He leaps across the bed and knocks the offending objects back out of Harry’s hands and into the drawer. “Never felt like I had to hide them because you’re a good flatmate and would never go through my drawers.”

He slams the drawer shut and then realises how very close he’s ended up to Harry. He backs away until his legs hit the nightstand, and he sits with a thump on the edge of it.

“Um--I didn’t get a--” Harry sniffs.

“Oh, right.” Louis jumps back up and quickly snatches the Kleenex box from the drawer and holds it out to Harry.

Harry takes a tissue and dabs his eyes a bit before blowing a loud honk into it. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, mate.”

“Think we might be more than mates now, Lou.”

“Um--yeah, about that--”

A wave of guilt washes over him. All this time Harry has been wondering and dreaming about this mysterious soulmate he was destined to have a connection with, and Louis has spent this same amount of time wishing he were the one. It feels like he forced this to happen somehow, which doesn’t even make sense. It’s just a little hard to know that if he could have chosen a soulmate it would be Harry, but he isn’t so sure that feeling has ever been reciprocated.

“More like soulmates.”

“What?”

“Not just mates anymore, mate. _Soul_ mates.”

“Are you seriously trying to make bad jokes right now?” Louis asks incredulously.

“Why did you cry?”

“Never mind, tell all the jokes you want.”

Harry scowls at him. It’s quite effective. He’ll have to remember to use that face more often once it’s his again.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis admits.

Harry bows his head. “Are you--were you--disappointed?”

“What? No! Jesus, Harry. No, of course not,” he replies a bit shocked. “The opposite really.”

He can tell Harry is still worried about his reaction. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and tension in every line of his body. He’s honestly not sure where to go from here or what to say. It’s not as if he was prepared to wake up as Harry today, no matter how many times he fantasized about it.

“Would you come on a walk with me?”

Harry’s head snaps up and his eyes meet him with a question, but he says yes. So Louis stumbles back to Harry’s bedroom and pulls on a pair of Harry’s jeans and a jumper. When he walks back into the hallway, he jumps at the sound of his own voice slowly drawling from Harry’s mouth.

“Looking good, Tomlinson.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I look like you right now.”

“I know.” Harry grins. “Also, I took a good long look at your arse in the mirror just now. It’s quite nice to fill out a pair of jeans like this.”

“Fuck off. Come on.”

He pulls Harry by the wrist to the door. They both fumble a bit putting on the wrong shoes first before sheepishly swapping them out when the ones they instinctively grabbed weren’t the right size.

They’re both bundled against the cold, but it’s actually quite mild for February. Louis leads them away from campus and towards a particular area of the nearby park that he frequents when the weather’s warmer. As he leads Harry up the path, he notices Harry watching him. He smiles and holds out a gloved hand. Harry takes it, and nothing has ever felt more right than the feeling of Harry’s hand in his own. He wonders at all the missed opportunities he’s had over the years to hold Harry’s hand.

When he reaches the bench beside where a bog garden lives during warmer temperatures, he stops.

“This is where I come,” he says simply.

“Okay,” Harry answers, sounding confused.

“It’s where I’ve always come when I’m thinking.”

“Oh. That’s--”

“It’s where I come to think about you.”

Harry’s eyes open wide as saucers. He doesn’t respond, which Louis is grateful for because if he’s going to go through with this declaration, he’d rather not be interrupted.

“The first time I came here was two years ago exactly. I know that because it was your birthday. You always get so keyed up about your soulmate around your birthdays, you know? And it just really struck me then that someday I was gonna lose you.”

“What? Lou, you could never lose me--”

“Yeah, I could though, Harry. How could I watch you fall in love with your soulmate and not feel lost?” His voice fails him part way through and he looks down at their hands clasped together.

“Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to watch that happen now though. There’s not going to be someone else.”

Emotion chokes the words he tries to say. “There won’t?”

“You were the one I was looking for all along, Louis, and I can’t believe I didn’t see what was in front of me the whole time--even if all our friends seemed to know.”

Even though these are words he’s long hoped to hear, he still feels at sea a bit. Probably doesn’t help that he isn’t technically himself at the moment. He doesn’t seem able to respond just yet, and Harry keeps speaking. “I know you probably don’t think of me this way yet, but--”

Wait, what? “Wait, what?”

“I’m just saying I know it’s probably a lot to try and think of me in a romantic way now, but someday maybe you’ll--”

“Harry, stop.”

“Like if we spend more time together as--”

“Harry! Are you fucking kidding me right now? I’ve been gone for you for years, mate.”

“Wait, what?”

“What did you think I meant bringing you here where I said I moon over your arse all the time?”

“I don’t know,” Harry huffs out a laugh. “I thought you meant like you were afraid our friendship was going to be ruined when I found my soulmate.”

“I thought my heart was going to be broken, you tosser!”

“Heyyyy. I didn’t know! I think it’s been established that I’m a little oblivious.”

Louis snorts and pulls Harry along on a path through the park. They walk in quiet for a time as Louis’ heart beats an irregular rhythm that feels like it perhaps is the rhythm that knows it belongs to Harry.

What they haven’t discussed is how Harry really feels about this, but honestly, Louis isn’t sure he can handle any explanations right now about how Harry is going to try and fall in love with him.

He gives him a small smile as he leads him into a coffee shop and orders them scones and hot chocolates. Harry beams at him when he orders extra whip cream. His heart gives a jolt at the pleased look on his face. This is what he knows though. He’s always known how to make Harry happy with silly little things like extra whip cream.

“Do my eyes always almost close like that when I smile?”

Harry barks out a laugh that sounds bizarre in his voice. “Yes. Was I just doing that?”

“Yes. How do I even see like that?”

“I dunno. I always really like it when you smile like that though.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

“Mmm.” He presses his lips together trying to hold back his reaction. He’s already said enough today about how he feels about Harry. No need to add to it at this point.

After their scones and hot chocolate, they walk home, and their hands find each other again as though made for one another. Louis marvels at how they slide into place so perfectly. They end up walking back to their flat without really discussing it.

They finally untangle their fingers with sheepish grins on their faces as they unwind scarves and tug off gloves and coats. Harry throws him a quick glance as he makes his way into their tiny kitchen and begins rummaging through cupboards and the fridge.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s just--I don’t know--” Harry turns around, his arms full of boxes and bags of snacks. “Let’s just spend the day together--here. If that’s okay.”

“Uh, sure, H. Are we gonna eat everything in the flat or--”

“Just thought I’d set up a bit of a picnic.”

“In February?”

“A living room picnic. We can watch romantic comedies and just--”

Harry has such a hopeful look on his face that Louis couldn’t deny him anything at this point. Not that he ever really does. “Defo. Sounds sick.”

Harry grins broadly, eyes crinkling up again in the corners as he hauls all the food into the living and sets up Netflix. They turn off their phones, and under a fluffy blanket they entwine their limbs and watch Harry’s favourite characters fall in love. Louis is left wondering when their love story will begin.

They crawl into Louis’ bed that night, his mind pleasantly drowsy and hopeful for the life that is to be his--a life with Harry.

Their old comfort returns as though it had never left, and Louis scooches up behind Harry in the bed, wrapping his arm around him. He buries his face in his hair, which is the only odd part of it as he was once used to breathing through his curls. Tomorrow, he promises himself. Tomorrow the curls will be off his own head and back on Harry’s. He nearly drifts off when he hears Harry sniff.

“Lou? Are you awake?”

“Mmmm.”

“Louis, will you kiss me?”

He’s suddenly wide awake. “Um--”

Harry shuffles in his arms, so that he’s facing him, eyes gleaming in the dim light coming in the windows. “Is it too weird? To--kiss yourself?”

His heart thumps again in its Harry induced rhythm before he leans in to press his lips to Harry’s. It’s a gentle kiss, a promise. Two souls who’ve always known the other was it’s match.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

///

The bright morning light isn’t what wakes him. No, it’s the feather light touch of fingertips brushing back the hair that has fallen across his face as he sleeps. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and looks into the clear green gaze of Harry’s eyes.

He’s quite thankful to not be looking back into his own. He’s glad to be back to himself, although even in these first brief moments of wakefulness he already feels the difference in himself as though his heart has made room for another in his chest.

He stares, mesmerised, as Harry’s fingers trace the lines of his neck and collarbones. Harry brushes off the duvet covering his chest, and his fingers travel along his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Louis’ breath catches. He’s trying desperately to hold back his reaction, afraid at its intensity. The last thing he wants is to scare Harry off.

But Harry’s wandering fingertips have found the tattoos at his wrist, and Harry brings his wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to Louis’ rapid pulse.

“Harry?” He breathes the name hoarsely.

Harry doesn’t respond except to place his lips to Louis’ chest. He presses a line of kisses down the middle of his chest as Louis’ breath shudders. “What are you--”

Harry stills. “Is this okay?”

“Um--” His cock twitches involuntarily against Harry’s leg which is pressed in between his own.

A wicked grin spreads across Harry’s face that takes his breath away. “Feels like maybe it’s okay.”

“Harry, you don’t have to--”

“Maybe I want to.”

“You didn’t though. I don’t want you to feel obligated--”

In a split second, Louis finds his wrists pinned to the bed, and Harry on top of him. “Louis Tomlinson. Are you trying to pretend you aren’t fit?”

Harry’s staring at him incredulously.

“I mean, you don’t have to do anything just because--”

“You idiot. I would have kissed you a thousand years ago, but I never ever would have risked our friendship for anything. I couldn’t bear to be without you, Louis. I just didn’t realise there was a really good reason for why I couldn’t live without you.”

“So you think I’m fit?”

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re fit as fuck.”

And suddenly, Louis’ wrists are released from his hold, and he’s left with no questions about whether Harry wants him or not. The way that Harry touches him so gently and the murmured words of his lover that spill out over his body leave him with no doubts that their love story has begun.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos and/or a comment! You can [reblog the fic post here](http://allwaswell16.tumblr.com/post/171864371166/running-through-a-cloud-of-steam-by) and I shall love you forever! <3 <3
> 
> Thanks again to my beta [taggiecb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb) for always holding my hand and making every fic I write so much better than I could ever make it on my own. And thank you again to my Brit picker [yousopugly](http://yousopugly.tumblr.com/) for all your help! Thanks for being so willing to help me at a moment's notice! I appreciate you so much! <3 <3
> 
> And another happy birthday to waitingforsomeghostie! Love you, E!
> 
> This fic was somewhat based on [this prompt](http://allwaswell16.tumblr.com/post/171300334476/myhomework-is-onfire-prideand-pretty-okay-so) on tumblr. Except then I didn't follow it and changed it. So. Yeah.
> 
> The title is from the song 'Lights Down Low' by Max.


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